


Don't Touch Me

by myoldsupernaturalaccount



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Handprint Kink, M/M, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myoldsupernaturalaccount/pseuds/myoldsupernaturalaccount
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel accidentally discover some unusual erogenous zones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Touch Me

It all started by accident. One moment Castiel was upset after killing one of his brothers and Dean was patting his back comfortingly and then Castiel was shuddering hard and he flew off, leaving Dean alone and confused.

The other half of the issue was also an accident. Dean tripped and fell on a hunt and Castiel grabbed his arm to break his fall. His hand brushed against the hand print and suddenly Dean was harder than he'd ever been. He smacked Castiel away and grumbled something about not needing any help, and as soon as they'd ganked the werewolf they were hunting he left Sam and Castiel to clean up and jumped into the Impala, driving a mile down the road before pulling over and jacking off, head lowered in confusion and shame.

After a while Dean put the hand print event out of his mind, but he couldn't help but notice how jumpy Castiel got whenever he got too close to his back. Even when he stood behind him the angel got twitchy, hands clenching and unclenching, and he would shoot frightened glares at Dean. He started waving his hand in the air behind Castiel when he wasn't looking, and every time every single muscle in Castiel's body tensed.

But then he noticed Castiel coming up with excuses to touch his arm. The slightest brush got him going, blood rushing straight to his crotch and he'd have to make excuses to go to the bathroom and whack off, coming in minutes like a goddamn teenager. The one time Castiel actually grabbed his arm, held it tight as he dragged him out of the way of a ghostly blade, he damn near came in his pants. And then he started to wonder, was that what he was doing to Castiel? Did he have some sort of angelic erogenous zone? And if so, why was it that Sam didn't seem to affect him?

They were researching for their next hunt – Sam, Dean, and Castiel – and Dean kept glancing over at Castiel, wondering what was going on.

“Hey Sam, get us some coffee, will you?” Dean said, staring down at his book without seeing it.

“Dean, we're in the middle of nowhere, where am I going to find coffee?” Sam protested, slamming his tome shut.

“Figure it out,” Dean answered, throwing a credit card at Sam. “I want coffee. Black. Plain. None of that sugary milky crap you get.”

Sam caught the credit card deftly and glared at him, but grabbed his coat and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

“All right, what is this?” Dean asked bluntly, staring Castiel down.

Castiel shifted in his seat. “I'm not sure what you mean by 'this',” he said evasively.

“You! With the touching and the twitching. What's going on, Cas?” Dean demanded.

The angel sighed. “Well, maybe if you'd stop fondling my wings in public I'd stop touching your hand print. It's very uncomfortable, Dean,” he snapped.

“Your what?” Dean was thoroughly perplexed. “I don't...I thought those didn't exist on this plane or whatever, how could I be...what?”

“The space where my wings should be is extremely sensitive. Your touches are...exciting. Your presence in that space is even more...”

“Arousing?” Dean supplied, starting to put the pieces together. Castiel blushed but nodded.

“I have reason to believe that the mark I have left on you, being composed of my Grace, just as my wings are, shares those...sexual properties,” he continued.

“Yeah they do! God, you touch it and...and fuck, Cas, I can't handle myself, I just want to—”

He had meant to finish the sentence with some kind of confession about how hot Castiel made him, even without coming near his arm, but he was cut off by a passionate, if slightly clumsy, kiss from his angel, which he happily returned, clutching at one of Castiel's sleeves as if to reassure himself that he was real.

“So tell me how you really feel,” Dean joked, trying to catch his breath and stop his heart from pounding.

Castiel tilted his head. “I thought the kiss made my intentions clear,” he said. Dean laughed.

“Never mind. Look, there's something I still don't understand. Why is it that I'm the only one who can feel you wings or whatever? Why not Sam? He's way more in tune with all that divine stuff,” Dean said. “Dude even speaks Latin.”

“I believe it has to do with our bond,” Castiel explained, finger tracing patterns on the top of Dean's hand absently. Dean suddenly wanted to kiss him again but he held back, wanting to hear this.

“Yeah?” he prompted.

“That's all. I really don't understand the mechanics,” he said, his shoulders shifting. “It's only a theory.”

Dean couldn't help himself, he just had to kiss him. It was short, just a firm press of lips, and then he grinned at Castiel's surprised expression. His grin turned slightly diabolical and he slid his hand up Castiel's side.

“So then...what if I were to touch your wings right now? How would you like that?”

Castiel flushed crimson and squirmed. “Dean...this is not the time or the place...Sam could be back any moment...”

“I'll be quick,” Dean murmured in his ear, very much entertained. He pulled that accursed trench coat off Castiel's shoulders and kissed at his jaw line, just below his earlobe, while his hands traced the line of Castiel's torso, over his waist and up his ribs.

“Dean,” Castiel said in a warning tone, but Dean just chuckled and slipped his hands around to caress Castiel's shoulder blades.

Castiel arched his back and cried out, shaking hard and clutching Dean's elbows. He looked utterly wrecked. Dean squeezed and kneaded at the flesh, drawing runes and pressing prayers with his fingers. He was perfectly content taking Castiel apart like this until a hand gripped at his upper arm and then he was gone too, all of his weight falling on Castiel.

“Not fair,” Dean whined, his erection pressing at the restrictive denim of his jeans. Castiel smirked weakly.

“Yes fair,” he said, and kissed Dean deeply. His fingers stroked over the brand once, twice, and Dean came in his pants, messy and wet and uncomfortable but he couldn't bring himself to care because suddenly he felt feathers in his hands, light and ghostly. He broke the kiss to peer over Castiel's shoulder curiously but there was still nothing there. Dean carded his fingers through the feathers and Castiel convulsed and collapsed into Dean's chest, breathing heavily.

“Dean...I just...I believe I just ejaculated,” Castiel gasped.

“Good, right?”

“Very good.”

“So um...are we...is this...is this us thing okay?” Dean inquired awkwardly.

Castiel's hand gripped the nape of his neck. It felt comforting, and he relaxed a little. “I would not object to a regular sexual relationship with you,” Castiel said, kissing at his throat. Dean let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

“Good, good.”

“Except...”

Dean's heart nearly stopped. Oh God, here it came, he was damned, he'd dirtied an angel, he was going back to hell, oh fuck.

“Please don't touch my wings...in front of people,” Castiel finished, cheeks pink.

He laughed loudly, relieved, and dropped his hands to rest on Castiel's lower back. “As long as you don't touch my arm, I think I can handle that.”

Sam chose that moment to walk back in, holding a tray with three steaming disposable cups. “Next time you do the coffee run, that place was—” He stopped, eyes narrowed. “It smells like sex in here.”

Dean grinned at him and winked.

“Oh...oh God! Take your coffee, Jesus, I'm going...somewhere...not here!” Sam stuttered, dropping the coffee on the table and slamming out the door again. “If you guys wanted to do...whatever it is you do, you should have put a sock on the doorknob or something!” he shouted through the closed door.

The older Winchester looked over at Castiel and raised an eyebrow. Castiel nodded in response, eyes smiling. Dean chuckled and leaned down to pull off a sock.


End file.
